Chapter 15
Motherfuckers
Aleks
After watching her face turn fifty fucking shades of red and then nearly purple when she fell into a fit of laughter that is clearly at my expense, I realize something.
“Those motherfuckers,” I stand. “I am going to kill them for suggesting —"
“No, you can’t, not yet,” she laughs even harder. “I can’t with you. You’ll go to jail, and I’ll never hear the story.”
“I’ll tell you the story, but I am still going to kill them.”
“Who is them?” She wipes tears from laughter away.
It’s beautiful, it’s real.
“You were correct. I watch hockey, I read hockey, I live, and I breathe hockey. It is all I do.”
“You also had a threesome in this very hotel.” She laughs, but very quickly stops.
She looks irritated. I like that too much. It’s jealousy, green like her eyes and possessive in a way that is ugly on anyone but her. I file that away and continue with my story.
“Sterling walked in the locker room pissed, so I simply asked if she had kicked him out already.”
She points the part of the pretzel in her hand at me, “That’s called instigating.”
“It’s a gift,” I smile, and hers broadens. “He said they were like Jacob and a strange name.”
“Renesmee,” she smiles as she curls her legs under her.
“Sure.” I shake my head, and she sinks back, comfortable, so I continue. “They were all shocked that I didn’t know about this movie.”
“Twilight.”
“I knew the title because I’d heard it was inspired by the movie with those two,” I scrub my hand over my face.
“That they suggested.” She giggles. “In my defense, I did ask if it was a porn, and they assured me it was not. In fact, Stone highly recommended it as a date night movie, gave it a ten out of ten.”
“So what did we learn here?” She asks, grinning.
“Stone is the one that gets whacked first. As a matter of fact, he may be at the top of the list right now.”
“You have a purge list?”
“That’s a movie?” She nods. “Not a porn?” She laughs. “Not a date night movie?”
“I mean, horror films are typically a fuck boys go to because they know girls get snuggly when they’re scared.”
“You speaking from experience?”
“The first boy who got to third base was because of the movie Saw.”
“That turned you on?”
“I didn’t want to get in an elevator alone to meet my driver outside his building, so I let him get way further than I should have.”
My blood boils… green. “What was his name?”
“Um, why?”
“So, I can seat him next to Stone on my Purge list.”
“I don’t think you want to start comparing numbers. I didn’t lose my V card until freshman year in college.”
“You lived in this city and held on to your virginity until you were away at college?”
“I had a very overprotective father, a driver, and Matteo. I had language lessons and debate teams. Clubs and camps.”
“Camps with a driver and a shadow?”
“Never overnight, always day camps.”
“I don’t know your father, but I appreciate that he made sure you weren’t taken advantage of.”
She looks down, obviously wanting to avoid that subject, and I notice her tap her finger twice on her knee before looking up. “Enough about me, tell me, how old were you when you lost your V card?”
“Fifteen.”
“That’s,” she pauses. “I would say young, but that’s pretty normal, I think. How long did you date her?”
“I have never been on a date.”
“Fuck boy,” she sighs.
She’s shared so much, I feel I should, hell, I want her to know, because it may let me see if my fear is real or imagined.
“Fourteen, scholarship kid at a prestigious school after my brother moved us to Moscow when he joined the military. I didn’t fit in; they all turned their noses up at me until I knocked the star of their hockey program on his ass. ”
“They liked the bad boy.”
“They loved him, their star, and he became my best friend. It opened doors. He made me appear desirable, and the girls who came to me, all very well off, wanted the thrill of slumming it with the scholarship kid, the boy their dads would have hated.”
“You didn’t open up to any one of them, did you?”
“They didn’t require it.”
“Well, that made it easy for you then, huh?”
“Perhaps, or perhaps it made me feel that my place in life was like it was in society. Beneath them. Not worthy. College was different. Girls acted like they wanted more, but I didn’t have it to give.”
“Why?”
“Being the best in middle and high school is far easier than it was when you’re standing next to men who were recruited for their skill and ability, and everyone was going for the same thing.”
“A shot at pros.” I nod. “You were a first-round draft.”
“I had a debt to pay. My brother sacrificed for me, and I was determined to make enough money to get him the hell out of poverty in Russia. Pay for his schooling so he could have a better life.”
“And?”
“He has a home. He’s taking correspondence courses, and with Costello’s help in finding the right official to bribe, he’s no longer on the front line of this war.”
“Will he come if he can? Leave Russia?”
“We love our country just like Americans do. And just like here, we don’t always agree with our leaders. If he comes, it’s likely he won’t be able to go back.”
“I know someone with a jet.”
“So do I, Costello. That route, he’d never be able to go back.”
“Have you gone back?”
“No,” I say. “Not since the war.”
“You haven’t seen your brother since—”
“We met in Switzerland four years ago,” I tell her. “Geneva. Neutral ground. Russians can travel there. Americans too. Quiet. Safe.”
“You’re close.”
“We’ve… bumped heads.” She looks at me in question.
“When I graduated from college, I was supposed to be part of the Russian Olympic program. Then the doping scandal broke wide enough that the whole system collapsed. Medals stripped. Flag gone. Doors closed. Fair enough. They cheated and got caught. My chance went with it. So did my brother’s, though for different reasons.
Mine disappeared because I played a sport.
His, because he wore the uniform they didn’t want seen anymore.
I understood the first part. I never understood why there was no way back for the people who hadn’t done anything wrong. ”
“So, you haven’t seen him since then?”
I scrub a hand over my face and roll my neck to release tension.
“We talk once a week. But when he sold the house I bought for him, one I expected to call home at least part-time when I retire, he moved into a place that was an eighth of the size. I was a little upset. But I’d bought it for him, a gift, so I couldn’t say much.
Then, when he told me he used the money to buy a place in Switzerland, I was excited.
It’s beautiful, four bedrooms. He was ready to get out, or so I thought.
When I made plans to come see him, he told me that our mother was living there. ”
“Aleks.” She shakes her head.
“He forgave her, and that’s okay. I’m not angry, and I know she was a victim too. He’s paid for her education. She’s working on her MD.”
“Have you talked to her?” I shake my head no. “Has she reached out?”
I shake my head no again, and I grab a fork. “I’m hungry, you?”
When she doesn’t answer, I look up into eyes that hold real emotions, concern, and care. “Is that Aleks for I’m done with this conversation?”
“I’d like that.”
She moves over and sits beside me on the couch. “Let’s talk about anything else. Your choice.”
“Tell me why you’re still wearing my number.”
“Because.” She answers.
“Because,” I repeat.
“Wait,” she sits up straighter, “How did you know where I was?”
“Shared locations,” I answer honestly.
“Shared locations?” She asks, eyebrows reaching the ceiling.
“You can get pissed.”
“Um, yes, I can.”
I hold up the fork, “Eat the sausage I brought you and tell me you’re not grateful, we shared locations.”
“We did not sh—” I take the opportunity to put the fork in her mouth. She covers it with her hand and talks with her mouth full, “You did not just shove your sausage in my mouth.”
I can’t help but grin, and she elbows me, hard too. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Tsarina. I play hockey, I saw an opening and took the shot.”
Her eyes widen as she chews, very fast, might I add, and before she can … swallow, I call her out, “You can’t get pissed at me for doing the same thing you did.”
She shakes her head as she swallows. “I didn’t secretly share locations when I had your phone, I just.” She pauses, looking very guilty about something, then straightens her shoulders.
“I deleted a few DM’s. And by the way, you should thank me, they were not attractive, and their grammar sucked.
” I pull my phone out of my pocket to look, and she snatches it. “Okay, and maybe I replied to a few.”
“You what?”
“It’s your fault.”
“You hacking my phone and replying to private messages is my fault?”
“Yes. You Sofie-napped me and then drove like a dick.”
“I—”
“You did.”
“Okay, then,” I chuckle as I hold out my hand. “Let’s see what I wrote.”
She puts it behind her back. “We’ve grown since then, our… friendship is blossoming.”
I stab another piece of sausage, “You’ve got five minutes to delete what you don’t want me to see without consequence.”
“Wait, consequence?” I smile and nod. “You can’t give me consequences.”
“Then how will you learn?”
She scoffs. “How will I learn?”
“We need boundaries, yes? Rules?”
“Says the location stealer,” she huffs.
“So, you’ve never done anything like that? Shared a location from a friend’s phone?”
“No.”
“Little liar,” I laugh.
“I’ve never done.” She stops. “Wait, who have you been talking to?”
I hold the fork up, and she bites my sausage.
“I’ll give you a hint.” She rolls those gorgeous eyes of hers. “Someone said, and I quote, when you’ve got a certain someone at the Puck Pad, turn off her location. Little shit turned blanks on in blank and she didn’t know it. They haven’t turned them off since.”
She swallows, “So Claudia and Nalani know?”
“Guessing that’s why I got the I’m sorry for being an ass, but if you hurt her, I will kill you message from Moretti tonight?”
She looks at my phone and reads my fucking message, right in front of me. “Um, you left him on read.”
“It was an apology; you don’t follow up on apologies.”
Still scrolling on my phone, she shakes her head, “Your communication sucks.”
“I’m not running a Fortune 500 company, I’m texting, which is arguably the worst form of communication.”
“I won’t disagree, but it can be effective.”
“You’re wasting that time I gave you with my phone to undo whatever shit you did by reading my DM’s?”
“I’m learning how to speak Aleks so the next time I jack your phone they won’t call me into question.”
“You have plans to do that?”
She doesn’t look at me; she simply shrugs.
I push up off the couch, “Bathroom?”
She points, eyes still on my screen.
When I finish washing my hands and turn off the water, I hear a man’s voice.
“What is going on?” A man asks.
“I just need space right now.”
“If you want time off without things looking suspicious, we need to plan that.” He says with an authority that pisses me off.
“I don’t need time off, I’m handling everything. I’m in the office, I’m on and at meetings. I’m fixing everyone’s fuck ups.”
“I’m aware, but you are not allowed to—” fuck this, I think as I open the door and walk out.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
Both of them simply look at me. My natural instinct is to push this asshole out and shut the door in his face. Instead, I hold my hand out, “Aleks Kilovac.”
“Yeah, sorry, Matteo, this is Aleks, Aleks, this is Matteo.”
“Good to put a face to a name.” I pull my hand back when he doesn’t shake it and shove both into my pockets to stop myself from busting an old man’s face. A man who’s a good five inches shorter than me, but still tries to find a way to look down on me.
He looks me up and down, “You play hockey.”
I give him the same treatment, look his smug ass up and down, and answer, “I do, and you work for Sofie and her father.”
His brow arches as he turns and looks at her, “This is why you need space?”
“I, I, —”
She stops when I step behind her, wrap my arm around her waist, and pull her back against my body. “Respecting boundaries.”
“Excuse me?” He scoffs.
“Hanging out here to watch the game instead of the tower. We’re respecting boundaries. Happy to give you a lesson on how that works if you’d like.”
“Aleks, it’s—”
“I’m not trying to overstep, but I’m always going to back you up, and I could have sworn you said you just need space right now.”
He looks at her, and the damn fool starts speaking French, asking her, “Do you think having a boyfriend is a smart move right now with your father’s condition?
Are you willing to throw everything away, Sofie?
For a man who will have no teeth or money by the time his career ends at the ripe old age of thirty, and you’ll be stuck for the rest of your life paying child support for his illegitimate children? ”
Her back straightens, and she responds in French, “He’s an elite professional athlete, one of the best the league has seen in decades.
I don’t project he’ll retire until he’s in his late thirties, and since he loves the game, I would assume he’d still work in the industry.
As far as children, to the best of his knowledge, he has none.
And excuse me for being naive, but if it ever turned into more than two friends hanging out watching a game, I’d hope to trust my instincts about his feelings.
And Matteo, it really hurts my feelings that you, of all people, would come at me like that.
I have always trusted you implicitly, and this, this makes me question my instincts.
Right now, neither of us nor the company will benefit from that. ”
“You’re acting foolishly.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She motions to the door. “I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”
“Sofie, this is not how…”
I cut him off in French, “Elle t'a dit de partir.” She told you to leave. I move in front of her when he doesn’t move. “Tu veux que je te montre comment ouvrir la porte ?” Do you want me to show you how to open the door?
He stammers as he makes his exit.
I turn and look at her, “?a va ?” Are you okay?
She smiles briefly, and her lower lip begins doing the quivering thing. “You speak French?”
“Un peu.” A little.
Her eyes get misty, and I take her hand and walk her over to the couch. “Before I forget,” I reach into the bag and hand her a book.
“A first-edition hardcover of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn?” She asks.
“You weren’t going to get it,” she looks up at me. “You read the first page twice and hugged it before putting it back.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, “Thank you.”
I pull out another copy and hand it to her, “In case it was a gift idea.” A tear falls. “For Claudia?” Another. “Fuck.”